Color Change
by zou299
Summary: Joining ROR wasn't just for show. Given the opportunity of a lifetime, Randall struggles to live up to everyone else's standards.
1. Prologue

Hello!

I began to write this story shortly after browsing the site and finding out there were no stories that featured Javier and Randall in a pairing. I hope to start it off with a good story, and I hope others who enjoy this pairing will enjoy this story as well. Currently, I'm looking for a beta reader to give me input on future chapters and pick up on any grammar mistakes that I may have made. If you're interested, I'd love to talk with you!

Anyway, chapters will definitely be longer than this. I posted this short prologue just to provide a small introduction. Also, I'd say that a chapter update every one to two weeks is expected. I still have exams that I need to study for after all!

* * *

"Javier will show you to your room, Boggs. Get settled in and sleep well. After all, your new life in Roar Omega Roar begins tomorrow morning," Johnny said.

Randall nodded, glancing at Javier and waving weakly. Javier met his gaze and quickly broke eye contact before turning toward the hallway behind him, refraining from returning any sort of friendly gesture to someone who could very well be removed from the fraternity at a moment's notice. The ones that lacked self-confidence didn't last long, and Randall certainly appeared to be the embodiment of self-consciousness. Javier walked into the hallway without a backwards glance, fully expecting Randall to follow. Hesitating, Randall looked to Johnny for guidance, but only received a smirk in reply.

"I told you to follow him, didn't I?" Johnny's condescending tone wasn't painfully obvious, but Randall knew that he had just made of a fool of himself. He blushed, dropping to all eights to hide his embarrassment. Keeping low to the ground, he rushed past the rest of ROR and into the hallway. Thankfully, Javier had been walking at his own slow pace. Having caught up to him, Randall picked himself up onto his four hind legs, squeezing his balled fists with his free hands as he had always done during his nervous fits. Javier had barely reacted to Randall with a brief glance behind his back before turning forward again, as uninterested as ever. The silence between the two grew longer and more awkward as they walked. Randall began to sweat as he felt pressured into breaking the silence, and he found himself squeezing his fists even harder. Javier, however, took no notice of the silence, maintaining his relaxed gait until they arrived at a closed door—his room, Randall assumed. Javier turned the knob and pushed the door open, then stepped aside to allow room for Randall to slip past.

A cool draft of air greeted Randall as he stepped into the dark room. Even without the lights, Randall could appreciate the room's clean and open appearance. However, turning on the lights, which were delicately soft and warm, brought out the beauty of everything else inside the room: a full-sized mattress topped with a simply decorated yet practical mattress set, a door that led to a sizable closet that was much bigger than Randall would ever need, and many other furnishings that accentuated a sort of regal and welcoming atmosphere. It was much more than Randall had ever had in his entire life, and here it was, condensed into a single room in a single house of many in the entire college campus. He came to the realization that he had reached the top, and he felt the need to make the most of it.

The new room—his new room—had calmed his nerves, and maybe for once, his life seemed to be heading in the right direction.

Randall climbed onto the bed and spread his body across the covers. Laying on the sheets, he began to imagine the places his new life as part of ROR would take him until he was interrupted by a knock on his door. Randall turned his head to the door and saw Javier standing there, ready to leave Randall to his own business.

"Oh, you're leaving? Have a good night!" Randall said with a breath of life in his voice and a small grin on his face. He waved once again, this time with more energy.

Javier certainly seemed a bit taken by surprise by his friendly smile. He hadn't expected Randall to get so comfortable so quickly. Slowly, he waved back.

"Good—" The last word got caught in his throat. "Good night," he said, turning the lights off for Randall before quietly closing the door.

Happy and determined, Randall crawled under the covers and quickly fell asleep with pleasant thoughts.

That was the first time that Javier had ever spoken to him.


	2. Aspirations

Hello!

First of all, I would like to thank everyone that liked, followed, and reviewed my story. It feels nice to know that others enjoy my writing. I would also like to thank TheBlackSnorlax for looking over this chapter for me. I really appreciate it!

My offer for any additional betas still stands, however, and if you're interested, don't hesitate to contact me!

Anyway, this chapter was a bit hard for me to write. I've never written about a surreal nightmare before, so any feedback on that part in particular is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy! Updates come every week to two weeks at most!

* * *

"Randall Boggs, you're next!"

Randall slid off of his seat and slowly walked up the small set of stairs to the scare simulator. Upon the raised platform, Randall could more clearly see the room and everyone inside: nervous students with their scattered textbooks, Professor Knight and the large number of papers that littered his table, and finally, Dean Hardscrabble, perched upon the narrow ledges that jutted out of the domed roof, and her scrutinizing gaze. Randall gulped, knowing that his future ultimately depended on her decision: Is Randall Boggs scary? He contemplated it for a moment, but could not say for certain.

"Right. Shall we get started, Boggs?" Professor Knight asked, tapping his pen impatiently upon a set of manila folders that held the profiles of the human children.

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm ready. I think so," he answered.

Professor Knight narrowed his eyes, taking note of Randall's lack of faith in himself. He cleared his throat. "You know that self-confidence is an important character trait of a successful scarer, Boggs. So far, you're convincing neither Hardscrabble nor me," he remarked, quickly scribbling something on a sheet of paper–no doubt the evaluation of Randall's exam performance.

Stupid. The word bounced around in Randall's head. Had he doomed himself from the start? It certainly seemed that way; Randall swore that Professor Knight looked as if he were ready to write him off without a second thought, thinking that Randall Boggs was a lost cause. That note that the professor wrote just now, Randall wondered, did it say something along the lines of "Has potential, but lacks confidence," or maybe it simply said "Hopeless," but even Randall thought such pessimism was absurd.

"Demonstrate," Professor Knight said abruptly.

"What?" Randall wanted to say, but he couldn't get the word out of his mouth. Strangely, he found himself literally unable to speak. Any attempt at speech resulted in an eerie silence, and Randall's flabbergasted appearance did not amuse Professor Knight, who simply repeated the order.

"Demonstrate."

What would he do and why couldn't he speak? More importantly, if he couldn't produce any sort of sound, how would he roar? How would he scare?

Deciding that he would need to try anyway with no other choice but to blindly perform, Randall dropped to the ground and crossed the short distance to one of the walls and assumed the pattern of the yellowish wallpaper. This was his only shot. Mustering up any bits of courage, Randall opened his mouth, and a roar that clearly didn't belong to him rang through the classroom. It was deep and sounded more suited for a larger, bulkier monster, one like Sullivan. In fact, it sounded exactly like Sullivan's, terrifying and deafening. But the child did not scream. It quickly rose from the bed without even a squeak and seemed more startled than scared. The scream level on the simulated scream can was at the lowest measure possible, an undeniable failure.

And at that moment, Dean Hardscrabble's voice boomed throughout the classroom, which had mysteriously emptied itself, including the students and even Professor Knight. The lighting seemed darker and the air smelled mustier. Only Hardscrabble, perched up in her usual spot, remained.

"Randall Boggs, you will not be continuing in the scaring program. What were you thinking, sneaking up on the child like that in plain sight?" Her voice was filled with disgust and utter contempt.

Randall looked at his hands and held them up to the simulator's walls. They were a blood red, distinct from the yellow that Randall had remembered. The patterns didn't match at all, but he was certain that he had emulated the effect perfectly.

Hardscrabble had replaced Professor Knight at the table in front of the simulator, holding out her hand toward Randall and further berating him for his foolish mistake, though Randall could not hear a word she was saying. She held in her hand a sheet of paper with a blatant "F" scrawled across it in red pen. The shiny ink had not even dried yet, dripping down the plane of the paper. Her inaudible words were accompanied by random fits of laughter from nowhere in particular that echoed ominously against the dark walls of the classroom. The laughter was then followed by a young monster's voice, no older than a child's.

"Look, everyone! Where did Randall go?" A group of young children had suddenly appeared inside the classroom, taking their stand in front of the platform where Randall stood. The comment was followed by snickers and smirks filled with malice, not at all like childlike giggles and grins.

A flood of childhood memories rushed back to Randall, recognizing the monsters as his classmates during elementary school. He took a look at his hands, but they were not there. His whole body had disappeared. The children, on the other hand, were staring and pointing right at Randall as if they could see him with no trouble at all. He tried to undo it, to make himself visible again, but his body refused to cooperate. Along with the disappearance of his voice, it was as if he didn't exist at all.

The laughter didn't cease to exist, however. On the contrary, it grew louder and louder, unnaturally louder, as if to make it known to the world that Randall Boggs' existence was a joke. Randall tried to cover his ears, but he couldn't feel his hands and ears make contact. By now, his body had seemed to literally disappear, leaving him with only the sense to see and hear through nonexistent eyes and ears. He was now a conscience stuck without a physical form, forever doomed to be tormented by glares and laughs. The noise was overpowering, making Randall want to curl up into a ball if he had the body to do so, but he had been granted no mercy. He endured the pain until he could see only darkness and hear only silence.

A gentle shake had saved him from the enduring nightmare. He could see the warm sunlight that bathed the room as he slowly opened his eyes. He was back in the warm bed under his soft covers, and standing above him was Javier, dressed nicely in his ROR jacket.

"You're late. Johnny's downstairs waiting for you." Javier had walked out shortly after without another word.

Randall picked himself up off the bed, walking slowly toward the door. He looked at his hands, and he could see them. He touched his fronds, and he could feel them. But the nightmare hadn't left him without a memento. Randall felt drained of all his energy despite the comfortable sleep—aside from the nightmare, of course—and he lazily dragged himself to the kitchen where the rest of the fraternity was finishing breakfast.

"Ah, Boggs. So glad you could finally make it," Johnny greeted him, but it was clear that he had much more to say than that. "A deep sleeper, eh? So far, you're not convincing me to keep you, but we need you. Today's the kickoff for the Scare Games after all. We have an image to uphold, Boggs. We expect everyone to carry their own weight."

_"You're convincing neither Hardscrabble nor me."_ Randall cringed as memories from last night began to resurface.

"S-sorry, Johnny," Randall said, trying his best not to sound tired. "I must have been really tired last night." He nervously chuckled. It took some effort to maintain his facade, but Johnny still didn't seem satisfied. Johnny sighed, placing his hand on Randall's shoulder and looking him straight in the eyes.

"We expect you there at the kickoff, Boggs. Don't be late," Johnny said. He stood up, the rest of ROR following him out of the kitchen and through the front door.

Randall ate his breakfast—some random cereal that he had found after searching through random cabinets and drawers—in isolation. Even if there had been somebody to keep him company, Randall would have been much too occupied with himself to talk to anyone.

_I can't disappoint Johnny or any of them. I can't let that happen._


End file.
